


Supply Run

by Blitzindite



Series: Star Wars Crossover [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Child Death, Crossover, Gen, Injury, Mandalorian, Minor Character Death, Swearing, Violence, alternate title: marv's lucky he went on a supply run or he'd be dead with the rest of his clan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blitzindite/pseuds/Blitzindite
Summary: “I don’t know who you are or if you can even hear me, but if you’re stupid enough to attack a Mandalorian, you better fucking make sure you kill ‘em.”(Star Wars/JSE Egos Crossover)
Series: Star Wars Crossover [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629673
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Supply Run

**Author's Note:**

> hm. Sam wasn’t supposed to be in this AU. Nor was Angus??? I’m not really sure how that happened-  
> Clans Magniif and Venat were made up for the purpose of this AU. Also The italics in the dialogue for this mean they’re speaking Mando’a instead of Basic, so they’re a translation. Aaaand I’m going more with the Star Wars Rebels version of Mandalorians for this AU than what little bit there was in The Mandalorian. I think that’s everything oof XD

Coming out of hyperspace, the pilot leaned forward in his seat to speak into the ship’s communications.

“ _This is Marvin,”_ he said while keeping his eyes fixed ahead, _“I’m approaching the planet. I have the supplies.”_

No answer from the other end. He couldn’t help but glare from behind his helmet. He rechecked the coordinates he was headed for; they were still correct. He wasn’t entering the atmosphere from the wrong territory.

“ _Sami, this is Marvin. Requesting permission to land.”_

Silence.

“ _This is Marvin—is anyone there?”_

He tried again, again, one more time—nothing.

“ _This is Marvin, entering planetary atmosphere. If you don’t want me landing, better speak now.”_

Lower, lower, he could see the cracks marring the barren ground now. In the distance, black smoke billowed high into the sky. He narrowed his eyes at it. It was exactly where he was headed. Something heavy settled in the pit of his stomach.

“ _This is Marvin, someone talk to me. What happened?”_ No answer. He smacked the console. _“Hello? Is anyone there?”_

Finally, finally, something happened. Not what he wanted, but something.

Two blips appeared on his radar and they were closing in fast. One of them fired, hitting Marvin’s left engine. He grit his teeth and tried desperately to steady the ship for its inevitable crash-landing.

“ _This is Marvin, Clan Magniif, House Kryze—why are you firing?! You’re in Clan Magniif land!”_

Another shot jostled his ship; he was losing altitude. Fast.

He reached blindly for his jetpack with one hand, the other still trying in vain to steady the ship. The device attached to the beskar plating on his back with ease, he slammed the release for the cockpit, and lunged out of the plummeting ship. Years of practice made it easy for him to steady himself and hover right where the ship had been—right where the seat had been beneath him—moments ago as he scanned the skies for his attacker.

“I don’t know who you are or if you can even hear me,” he growled into an open comm network, fighting his own tongue for the shift into the Basic he so rarely used, “but if you’re stupid enough to attack a Mandalorian, you better fucking make sure you kill ‘em.”

There was no way his attackers were Mandalorian. The move had been far too cowardly: Ambush the unarmed supply transport, try to kill the pilot while he couldn't defend himself. That wasn’t their way—not for _any_ of the clans. He would have at least gotten an answer, however vague, that he wasn’t welcome there.

So who the hell was in Magniif-controlled territory..?

The two TIEs that circled around for another attack were answer enough.

He had explosives at his belt, blasters at either hip, a fully fueled jetpack magnetized to his back, electrostaff slung around his shoulder, but he couldn’t exactly say he’d ever gotten into a dogfight _without a goddamn ship_.

Go for the wings, he told himself. Plant the explosives on those flimsy fuckers’ wings.

He bolted to the side, then straight up, when the shooting started again. Both fighters overshot and had to circle back around.

That is, if he could even get close enough to grab onto one of them. Here comes the challenge.

Marvin jetted off to the nearest of the pair. He kept himself zagging through the air, kept himself out of range of the guns, reached an arm out and winced as he grabbed hold of one of the wings and could feel the strain it put on his shoulder when the TIE just kept moving. The pilot shouted something at him and the craft was suddenly spinning. It took everything he had just to hold on.

His gloved fingers wanted to slip on the smooth metal, the hatch wouldn’t budge when he tried to pry it open. He banged his head against the wing not once, but twice, through all the spinning and couldn’t be more grateful for the beskar protecting keeping his head from being cracked open.

Hold on. Just a little longer, he told himself. Wait for… _now._

When there was a lull in the spinning so the pilot wouldn’t make _themself_ dizzy he pulled an explosive from his belt and smacked it down against the wing’s attachment to the cockpit. A second followed, then a third. All activated, all ticking down. A little nod at his work and he jumped away from the TIE.

The wing was easily blown off and he watched the fighter spiral for the desert so far below and go up in flames when it hit the ground. He offered a brief smirk before focusing his attention on the second TIE.

The second went down far easier than the first. A newly graduated pilot if he was to guess; a rookie who’d underestimated their enemy.

Marvin flew down to the surface to check that both pilots were dead, then took off for his home. He could still see the smoke, still wasn’t getting any answers. He wasn’t sure where the supply ship had landed, but that was the last thing on his mind. Where the hell were his people?

Activating his electrostaff as he landed, Marvin scanned the area with a careful eye.

Every last one of their ships had been destroyed. That explained the smoke.

Some of their sturdier buildings had holes ripped into the walls and not a single tent still stood. Some had been burned to nothing, others collapsed at the supports. A few stormtrooper bodies littered the ground, but the brunt of the damage looked like it had come from above.

“ _This is Marvin. Is anyone here?”_

He kicked a blaster from a trooper’s body and ducked around one of his clan’s destroyed fighters.

“ _Clan Magniif of House Kryze, show yourselves.”_

Nothing.

Poised for another attack, Marvin stalked toward the nearest building. Their leader’s quarters lay within.

“ _This is Marvin. Clan Magniif, are you here?”_

He inched forward, into their leader’s quarters, couldn’t help the growl that bubbled up from his throat. It looked like an explosion had gone up in her room—one probably had—and there she lay. Shrapnel had found its way between her armor plating.

Marvin knelt at her side and felt for a pulse. Nothing.

He couldn’t tell if it was the internal bleeding or ruptured organs that had killed her. Did it really matter? She was dead either way.

“ _This is Marvin. What the hell happened here?”_ He wasn’t expecting an answer anymore. Not when he found one of the clan’s children, helmet ripped away and shot execution-style, outside one of the downed tents. Not when he saw two other adult warriors who’d suffered the same fate laying nearby.

He could about piece together what had happened.

The Empire had threatened them long enough. It had only been a matter of time before it “made an example of them.”They never should have helped those Rebel forces.

Marvin’s fingers tightened around his staff. Knowing the Empire, they’d swooped in with far more support than even a Mandalorian clan could handle.

More bodies of his people, most killed the same way: Helmets torn away likely while they were pinned down, tossed aside like they meant nothing, shot point-blank.

Anger burned in his chest. The Empire was a _coward_.

He—they—

He bared his teeth, and when a hand grabbed for his ankle he spun sharply and pointed one of the charged ends of his staff at—

“ _Sami?”_

He was met only by ragged breathing and the sight of his comrade pinned under one of their destroyed fighters. When Marvin tried to move it so he could pull Sami out from under it, the heavy craft barely budged.

Sami was clawing weakly at the metal pinning them down, at the armor on their chest, as they coughed and wheezed for air. When Marvin stood up—plasma cutter, maybe he could find one and cut the fighter away—Sami reached desperately for him.

“ _I’ll be right back,”_ he promised, _“just keep breathing for me.”_ He couldn’t see Sami’s expression behind their helmet, but he could imagine their remaining eye open wide as it followed him.

Focus on Sami, he told himself. You can at least save them.

From there, it was a scramble for a tool he could use. Throwing things, tearing apart already-downed tents, shoving bodies aside, tripping over limbs and weapons and discarded helmets, all while trying to get a call to go through to another clan. Venat. Clan Venat. They’d be the best chance. They were closest. They—

“ _Who’s this?”_ Marvin could hear the growl in his ear as he finally hit the right frequency. He never thought he’d be more relieved to hear the thick accent of Clan Venat’s leader.

“ _Marvin, Clan Magniif, House Kryze.”_ How many times had he said that today alone? _“I… We need help.”_ Oh, he felt like he was taking a bite out of his own pride saying those words. He hated it. Absolutely hated it.

The laughter on the other end had him gritting his teeth. _“And…why would we do that?”_

“ _We’ve been allies in the past. I thought—”_

“ _Hah! Your clan’s_ real _good at stabbin’ its ‘allies’ in the back. Why would that—”_

“ _I don’t think just two of us will be much of a problem anymore,”_ he growled back.

“… _Where’s your leader? Lemme speak with her.”_

“ _Ferr’s dead.”_

“ _Your second?”_

“ _Dead. Dead, dead, fuckin’_ dead, _Angus! There’s two of us left, and one of us is badly wounded. So you either send help or you don’t.”_

A speechless pause answered as he was wrestling with prying open a crushed toolbox. He could only breathe a sigh of relief when he saw the tool he’d been searching for within it.

“ _Well?”_ he challenged as he tested the tool on a stormtrooper’s dropped blaster before bolting to Sami’s side to start cutting. _“If you do this one damn thing, I’ll be in your debt.”_

“… _I’m sendin’ a transport. Try anythin’ funny—”_

“ _You’ll kill us on sight. Yeah. Got it.”_

He shook his head and turned his comm off. Focus on Sami, he repeated to himself. Cutting away the metal was easy. The hard part was dragging Sami away from the collapsed fighter without injuring them any further.

When Marvin pulled Sami’s helmet off, followed by his own, he was surprised to see how alert the other still was. Their face was smeared in blood and they looked exhausted, but their eye still followed him.

“ _Clan Venat is coming to help. You’ll be patched right up,”_ he assured.

“ _Y-you’re too calm.”_ They paused, drifted a hand over to weakly squeeze his. _“…No. You’re angry.”_

Marvin tried to smile, but the scowl remained etched into his face. _“I’m gonna find whoever ordered this attack,”_ he promised, _“and tear ‘em apart.”_

“ _Heh…I don’t expect anything less from you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I used the word venator (Latin term for hunter) and shortened it to get Venat instead, so that’s how I came up with the name for Angus’ clan! The one for Marv’s is pretty obvious tho (shortened Magnificent, added an extra ‘i’ to make it more Star Wars-y)


End file.
